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"Sure, but maybe you should hire a real assistant manager for that."
"No time." I clutched the papers to my chest. "I'm leaving as soon as I can make the arrangements."
Assuming my first phone call went the way I hoped it would. I needed answers, and I was sick of waiting to receive them. Time to go get them myself.
My family wouldn't mind me leaving them right after they'd arrived. Once I explained why I was doing this, they'd understand.
"Where are you going?" Ollie asked.
"California."
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Val
Waves swelled and broke on the shoreline outside the picture windows, seeming dark and foreboding under the gloomy sky. Slouched in an armchair, I stared at the breakers and sipped my glass of bourbon. I'd always loved the view from my living room. Ever since I'd left Eve, nothing was beautiful anymore. I hated my house, I hated the ocean, and I hated the fucking paparazzi. Most of all, I hated myself for hurting Eve.
I would get back to her. If she'd have me.
A large breaker crashed onto the shore, spraying the beach.
Whatever I had to do to make this up to Eve, I would do it. Somehow, I had to make her understand why I'd abandoned her. Maybe I shouldn't have sent her the legal documents without at least calling first to explain. A phone call wouldn't be enough. I needed to look into her eyes when I told her.
I hoped I'd be kissing her seconds after that, but it might've been wishful thinking.
God, I missed her.
Why the hell did you leave her, then?
The doorbell chimed.
I groaned and swigged the last of my bourbon. Seeing anyone appealed to me about as much as wrestling with a porcupine. Poor Ollie had almost done that. A smile tugged at my lips but couldn't quite take hold. I missed Ollie too, and Ruth and Sylvester, even the Kitten Brigade. They'd become like family to me. Eve had become so much more.
The doorbell chimed again, three times in quick succession.
Christ, whoever it was had a hard-on for talking to me.
I slapped my glass down on the table and shoved myself out of the chair. The wood floor chilled my bare feet, but I didn't care. When I reached the front door, I swung it wide open. A wave of shock broke over me, but it swiftly transformed into a warm and welcome relief.
Until she spoke.
"Você partiu meu coração."
A pain tightened the back of my throat, roughening my voice. "I know I broke your heart. I'm sorry, Evie, I'm so sorry."
"Yeah, I know you are."
What could I say? What could I do? I'd abandoned her. Now she was here, standing on my doorstep, and I was paralyzed.
"You know," she said, "we haven't seen each other in more than two weeks. I think it would be appropriate for you to kiss me."
That was all the invitation I needed.
I threw my arms around Eve and dragged her into me. She tried to speak, but I silenced her with my lips. She melted against me, moaning, opening her mouth and welcoming my tongue. She tasted even better than I remembered, sweet and sexy—if "sexy" were a flavor. With Eve, it definitely was. The taste of her and the feel of her body intoxicated me more than any alcohol.
Finally, I relinquished her lips. I held on to her body, though. No force on earth could make me let go.
"Well," she said breathlessly, "that answers one question."
